Saturday Morning Attack!
by Merlynnod
Summary: A saturday morning attack on B+B by the three cubs.


Little Boy Blue Eugene Field  
  
The little toy dog is covered with dust,   
But sturdy and staunch he stands;   
And the little toy soldier is red with rust,   
And his musket molds in his hands.   
Time was when the little toy dog was new   
And the soldier was passing fair;   
And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue   
Kissed them and put them there.   
  
"Now, don't you go till I come," he said,   
"And don't you make any noise!"   
So, toddling off to his trundle-bed,   
He dreamed of the pretty toys;   
And as he was dreaming, an angel song   
Awakened our Little Boy Blue -   
Oh! The years are many, the years are long,   
But the little toy friends are true!   
  
Aye, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand,   
Each in the same old place -   
Awaiting the touch of a little hand,   
And the smile of a little face;   
And they wonder, as waiting these long years through   
In the dust of that little chair,   
What has become of our Little Boy Blue,   
Since he kissed them and put them there.  
  
  
They could hear their father snoring even outside in the hall. They   
also hear their mother moving in her sleep, rolling over onto her side,   
mumbling something about being late again. The three were making   
ready to attack, this ritual that they had been engaged in for years now.   
The older two never ceased to wonder why it was that their parents   
couldn't seem to anticipate these weekend morning assaults, but   
the wondering never kept them from their fun. Outside, the three   
cubs were making ready with their well-laid, well-practiced plans,   
arming themselves with pillows, stuffed animals, blanket capes,   
and a colander for a helmet.   
  
Inside the room, their mother had heard them giggling a few moments   
before, and she knew very well what was coming. She smiled to herself,   
gave out a resigned sigh as to she and her husband's fate, and crawled a   
little deeper under the bedclothes before the assault was launched.   
  
Their father never saw it coming. He was snoring, loudly, undoubtedly   
dreaming of flying, Krakatoa specials, and his favorite club, Louie's. His   
wife did know about the battle about to be waged, and had tried to find a   
more beneficially tactile position beneath the heavy comforter, but her   
husband was waiting --- a sitting duck.   
  
When the three cubs had gotten their plans set and their weapons in   
order, the two youngest began to yell, ran through the door, and   
immediately launched themselves onto the queen size bed. Abby landed   
on Baloo, and Molly landed next to a lump beneath the bedclothes she assumed  
represented her mother. Kit brought up the rear,   
wielding a large pillow, waiting for his sisters to get clear before he   
started swinging.   
  
"OOOOF!" Baloo gasped as a small cub missile landed on his stomach,   
but before he could say anything else, he was bopped upside the head by   
a small pillow, and could only make out a small gray leg, and a bit of red   
blanket cape. After recovering from this initial onslaught, he began his   
own offensive, deflecting the pillow wielding, three-year-old, maniacally   
giggling gray bear cub with his large arms, and reaching inexorably   
forward, intent on tickling her into submission.   
  
Rebecca, on the bed next to him, was busily fighting off her own attacker,   
a golden furred cub this time, outfitted with a nearly antique colander   
from her childhood years, and her own pillow, all with the intent of pillow   
bopping her mother with glee. Molly had jumped onto the bed, but had   
managed to miss landing on her mother, and was forced to take a few   
moments to find her beneath the comforter she had taken refuge beneath   
only a few moments before. Because of this, Rebecca had managed to   
snag a pillow of her own, and when Molly found her, she was able to   
come up fighting her own battle, with caught Molly off-guard. Molly and   
Rebecca continued their battle until finally Molly slipped and fell onto the   
bed, and Baloo grabbed her to begin her tickling with her sister. Both   
cubs shrieked with laughter, trying to get away, but unable elude the arms of   
their father.   
  
Kit had been waiting for his other two comrades to be taken in battle   
before he began his own offense, and now that they were in the fray, he   
changed, pillow wielding, yelling, and ready for a good pillow   
fight. He was aiming for his father, intent on freeing the girls, but he met   
with his mother instead. Rebecca, on her knees on top of the bed, met   
him with a pillow attack of her own, and Kit was forced to go on the   
defensive after all.   
  
Rebecca and Kit were still going at it several minutes later,   
both of them   
laughing uproariously, with Kit finally realizing that his small mother   
had some great pillow fighting tactics. At this point, Abby began yelling   
louder, pleading for mercy, her head having been captured between her   
father's leg and the bed, unable to get away. Molly had tried to come to her aid,   
but had again been captured by her father, he had her in his grip, and   
he wasn't about to let go. Hearing Abby's cries for mercy, Baloo released   
her, knowing that as soon as he had done so, she would be clambering   
back on him with renewed vigor, ready to be tickled again. This mass of   
giggling, pillow throwing, and tickling bears continued their antics for a   
few minutes more, but finally Kit had had enough, and surrendered his   
pillow to his mother. The girls were given one last tickling, and then   
released, both sitting down in the bed, bright-eyed, breathless, and   
ruddy cheeked. Baloo and Rebecca also sat back down in bed, sighing   
happily, a glance passing between them. No words were needed to be said.   
It was plainly written in both their faces that they wouldn't have it any other   
way. 


End file.
